


Subtlety Is Not A Gift

by Brenda



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bucky Barnes & Sam Wilson Friendship, Bucky Barnes & Steve Rogers Friendship, Bucky Barnes Is a Good Bro, M/M, POV Sam Wilson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-08-24 02:05:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8352031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brenda/pseuds/Brenda
Summary: "I just...wanted to ask you, since you've known him so long and all – and it's mostly because I haven't done this sort of thing in a really long time, and well, he's...I guess I don't need to tell you what Steve's like or..." He winces at himself – he's messing this whole thing up, and he'd had a pretty good speech all planned out and everything. "Anyway. You got any advice on how I should go about actually asking him out?  Like, on a proper date?"
For a moment, Barnes doesn't react.  He just sits there and looks at Sam like Sam's speaking ancient Greek or something.  Then he throws his head back and laughs, so loud that they start to garner stares from the other patrons in the shop.  He laughs so long he starts hiccupping and honest-to-God tears appear in the corners of his eyes.  "Do I have advice, he says," Barnes gasps out, between wheezing breaths.  "This is the best day of my fucking life." Or: Sam really should know better than to ask Bucky for advice on anything.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ladydeathfaerie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladydeathfaerie/gifts).



> Written for LadyDeathFaerie for the 2016 Marvel POC Exchange - hope you enjoy!!!

Sam wouldn't exactly call Barnes and him _friends_ these days, for all that they've moved past outright antagonism into a more genial sort of ribbing and giving each other shit. _It's complicated_ is probably the best way to describe their current relationship: he trusts Barnes with his life and Steve's life out in the field and on missions, but he wouldn't leave Barnes alone in his house or with anything valuable, and he sure as hell tries not to spend time with Barnes outside of Avengers business unless Steve is there to act as a buffer.

But, as the old saying goes, desperate times call for desperate measures, and Sam's reached the end of his proverbial rope.

Which is why he's currently sitting at a back table in his local coffee shop, waiting for Barnes, and regretting every single life choice he's ever made that has led him to this point. Because he knows, just as sure as the sun rises in the east and Steve Rogers has no sense of self-preservation, that Barnes is going to make him pay for this favor for a very long time.

And even after ten minutes or so of sipping his coffee and diligently watching the front door, Barnes still manages to drop in the chair across from him without Sam even noticing he'd walked in. "So, where's the fire?" Barnes asks, around a yawning frown.

Sam does _not_ jump in his chair like some scream queen in a horror film – he is a battle-hardened and highly trained professional soldier who absolutely does not jump when grumpy-ass assassin-types come upon him unawares. He does, however, level his best glare Barnes' way, because there is such a thing as _professional_ courtesy to one's fellow soldier, not that Barnes would know the meaning of the word if the definition of it was painted in front of him in thirty-foot tall bright neon letters.

"Really?" he asks, instead, his scowl deepening. "This is how it's gonna be?"

"Yep," Barnes replies, unperturbed. "I'm vertical and dressed and out in public – you want polite, you might wanna wait until I've had coffee."

Sam gestures at the counter. "I can wait until you're caffeinated."

"In a minute." Barnes leans in and fixes him with that thousand-yard stare of his. "After you tell me what the emergency is and if I need to head home to grab more weapons."

"Woah woah _woah_. Hold on now, I _never_ said emergency," Sam says, holding up his hands. The last thing he needs is for Barnes to start busting in all guns blazing (literally and figuratively) and itching for a fight.

Barnes fishes his phone out of the front pocket of his hoodie and scrolls for a second. "Your message says – and I'm quoting here, Wilson, if case you forgot what you typed – 'need to talk 2 u. imprtnt. come alone', unquote." He puts the phone back in his pocket and sits back, patient, his gaze cool and unwavering.

"I said important, not emergency." A small, but key, distinction, and Barnes should know that. Weren't spies and assassins and spooks supposed to be masters at splitting hairs when it came to word choice?

Barnes doesn't roll his eyes or even change his expression. But it's clear his level of Done With The World And Especially Sam has gone up at least tenfold. "Fine. What's so _important_?"

In retrospect, maybe looking to Barnes for guidance hadn't been Sam's shiniest moment. But it's not like Sam has too many choices at this point, and it's too late to back down now. So he finishes his lukewarm coffee, and tries to figure out the best way to say what he's gotta say and ask what he needs to ask without making things worse.

"I need your advice," is what he finally settles on.

Barnes' expression is still etched in stone, but the set of his shoulders relaxes minutely. "Steve would tell you I give terrible advice."

Steve's probably got a point, Sam thinks. Barnes is literally his last resort. But beggars and all that. "It's...I, uh, actually...wanted to talk to you _about_ Steve."

At that, Barnes' eyes take on a speculative gleam. "Keep talking."

Sam takes a steadying breath. It helps that Barnes isn't glaring daggers at him anymore, although he's pretty sure that's gonna change in a minute. "I just...wanted to ask you, since you've known him so long and all – and it's mostly because I haven't done this sort of thing in a really long time, and well, he's...I guess I don't need to tell you what Steve's like or..." He winces at himself – he's messing this whole thing up, and he'd had a pretty good speech all planned out and everything. "Anyway. You got any advice on how I should go about actually asking him out? Like, on a proper date?"

It's not that Sam hasn't tried in his own way to let Steve know he's interested in being more than friends. He's got eyes in his head, and he's seen the way Steve's gaze has lingered on his ass when they go out running in the mornings (which just proves that Steve has good taste), and he's noticed that Steve sometimes gets all shy and stammery around him when they're hanging out together over at Sam's place. But, for all that Sam's done his best to let Steve know he's down to take things up a notch or two or ten, Steve hasn't made a move, and Sam's not sure what else to do without a super awkward explanation on how dating and relationships work in the 21st century.

For a moment, Barnes doesn't react. He just sits there and looks at Sam like Sam's speaking ancient Greek or something. Then he throws his head back and laughs, so loud that they start to garner stares from the other patrons in the shop. He laughs so long he starts hiccupping and honest-to-God tears appear in the corners of his eyes. "Do I have advice, he says," Barnes gasps out, between wheezing breaths. "This is the best day of my fucking _life_."

Sam waits in vain for Barnes to settle his shit down, then frowns again when Barnes shows no signs of stopping. Sure, he'd expected Barnes to give him a little bit of a hard time, but this level of shit is completely _not_ cool. "It's not that fucking funny, man."

"That's where you are so, _so_ wrong," Barnes replies, his guffaws finally leveling down to the occasional chuckle. "This is the funniest fucking thing anyone's ever said to me, ever. Trust me." Then he sprawls back in his seat again, and gives Sam what could only be described as a fond look. The apocalypse is, indeed, nigh. "Why is it you think you need my advice on asking Steve out? You sure he's even interested in you?" he asks, and starts laughing to himself again, like he's said something particularly funny.

Killing Steve's childhood best friend probably won't get him any closer to getting into Steve's pants, but damned if Sam doesn't spend a minute seriously contemplating it. 

"Look, without getting too into shit that's not exactly your business, I _know_ Steve's into what I've got," Sam says, wishing like hell he had a good strong glass of bourbon in front of him and not just coffee dregs. "But every hint I've dropped that I'm open to whatever has been...it's like –"

"Well, _there's_ your problem right there," Barnes says, cutting him off. "Subtle is _not_ Steve's strong suit. Peggy had to pretty much hit him upside the head for him to cotton on that she was into him, y'feel me?"

Sam nods. "So...a direct approach?"

"Direct and simple. Use small words and make sure you enunciate."

"Alright," Sam says, deciding to just take the advice at face value, even though he's sure Barnes is still fucking with him a little bit. "I can do simple."

"Good," Barnes replies, and smiles, Cheshire-wide and far too pleased with himself. "And I'd think of something simple to say right now, because he's probably going to walk through the door any second."

"Wait, he's _what_?!"

Sam looks beyond Barnes towards the front door and, sure enough, Steve – in all of his stupidly handsome and blond and muscled glory – has just stepped foot inside the shop. He glances around for a second, then spots them. Immediately, that big, goofy, loveable grin (the one that's total catnip to Sam's libido) breaks across his face, and he starts to make his way through the crowd to their table. 

"How the hell did he know we were here?" Sam hisses, _not_ panicking, because he's a grown man and, as previously noted, a battle-tested soldier, and panicking is beneath his dignity. Not that he's got much of that these days, apparently.

"I told him." Barnes just shrugs when Sam gives him a wide-eyed, _what the fuck were you thinking_ look. "No offense, Wilson, but there's only about two reasons you would ever want to talk to me alone about 'something important', and you're not the type to ask my advice about where to bury a body. So I figured it was about Steve, and it wasn't that hard to piece it all together after that. Especially not with the way you look at him like he's the world's biggest piece of cheesecake and you're starving for dessert."

"Huh." Sam hadn't actually thought about it like that, but it does seem obvious now that Barnes has pointed it out.

"Hey guys," Steve says, once he reaches them.

Barnes stands, chair scraping across the floor, and accepts Steve's one-armed hug with his own. "Glad you finally made it. What part of 'just give me ten minutes' did you not get?"

"I still don't know why you couldn't just wait for me," Steve replies, but then he smiles down at Sam – all soft and shy and under those ludicrously long lashes that should not be as sexy as they are – and Sam wants to melt into his chair or maybe swoon into Steve's stupidly buff arms. "Hey, Sam, how's it goin'? Missed you this morning. Run wasn't the same without you."

Sam's sure there's someone on the planet that's immune to those baby blues, but it sure as hell isn't him. "Uh, yeah, I..."

"I'm gonna go grab an espresso and get some of that delicious looking coffee cake," Barnes says, thankfully saving Sam from blurting out something sappy and ridiculous. "Steve, you want anything?"

"Coffee'd be nice," Steve says. "And maybe a lemon bar."

"You got it." Barnes claps Steve on the shoulder and heads towards the counter, leaving Sam alone with Steve. Who takes Barnes' vacated seat, and is still just smiling at him with that soft, shy smile and looking at him with those big, bright eyes.

"So...Buck mentioned you wanted to talk to me about something?" Steve prompts, after a few beats of silence.

"Uh, he did? I mean, yeah, I guess I did." Sam pushes his coffee mug to the side and puts his hands on the table. He can do this. Direct and simple, right, how hard could it be? "I was...I was wondering what you were doing on Friday night. I mean, if you had any plans."

Steve cocks his head, and his smile widens, his nose and cheeks scrunching up adorably with the motion. "Why, you got something in mind?"

Alright, Sam thinks, so far so good. Steve seems to be open to the idea of going out. "Maybe dinner?" he suggests, figuring it'd be better to keep it simple for a first date. "Or a movie if you'd rather do that, or...I don't know, I'm not sure what would be too much too soon for you. I was hoping you could give me a few ideas," he says, with a small smile that he hopes looks more charming, rather than nervous as hell and trying to hide it.

"I..." Steve opens his mouth. Shuts it. Opens it again. "You're...you're fucking with me, right?" he finally asks. "Bucky put you up to this, didn't he?"

"Nooooo," Sam says, with a sinking feeling in his gut. He's killing Barnes the second the bastard shows his face again. Because yeah, maybe he and Barnes aren't close, but throwing Sam to the wolves like this is all kinds of fucked up and wrong. "No, I just –"

"Sam." Steve leans in and places his hands over Sam's, the touch warm and very much _not_ just bros being bros. "I thought – I mean, maybe it's my fault for not clarifying weeks ago – but I kinda thought we've _been_ dating."

"You..." Sam blinks, stunned. There's a curious roaring in his ears. "You...you did? You do?"

"Yeah, I thought – I mean, I was thinking maybe you were taking things slow because you thought that's what I wanted, but..." Steve drags his thumb across the back of Sam's hand, soothing and arousing in equal measure. He darts his tongue out to moisten his lower lip. Sam helplessly tracks the movement, and when his gaze returns to Steve's, he notices that Steve's cheeks are slightly pink. "It's...I was actually _just_ talking to Bucky about it this morning. I mean, asking for advice on how to let you know I was okay with us...taking things to the next level. Um, physically."

Well, fuck-a-duck, no wonder Barnes had been fit to busting earlier.

"You...really?" Sam still feels like a stiff breeze could knock him right over. But then, what Steve's just told him really starts to register, and he starts to grin, stunned and pleased. All this time, he's been thinking his hints had gone unnoticed, whereas Steve's been... Wow. "So, you _really_ thought we were a thing?"

"I may not be much up to speed on modern dating, but what else would you call what we've been doing?" Steve asks, with a small, self-deprecating shrug. "You cook me dinner all the time and we go for a run together every morning and we do movie nights together at your place every Sunday night when we're not on missions..." He trails off, and licks at his lips again. "They all felt like dates to me."

"Yeah, they did. To me, too." Sam flips his hand so he can lace his fingers with Steve's. "I just thought maybe you weren't as interested in kicking things up a notch as I thought."

"I'm interested. _Very_ interested," Steve adds, with another one of those charming under-the-lashes looks of his. Sam doesn't mind admitting to himself that the look is really doing it for him.

"So," he asks, dropping his gaze briefly to the spit-slick shine of Steve's lips, "if I was to tell you I wanted to lean over this table right now and kiss you...?"

Steve's eyes darken. "I'd ask you what the hell you're waiting for."

Never let it be said that Sam Wilson can't take a hint. 

He leans across the table, and meets Steve halfway, the kiss light, teasing, both of them keeping their eyes open and on each other, testing the waters. Then Steve smiles and presses forward, and this kiss is _much_ more like it. Hard and firm and with just a hint of teeth scraping across Sam's lower lip, and Sam sinks right into it, content to let Steve take the lead on this one. 

If it means more kisses like this, Sam's okay with Steve taking the lead in a _lot_ of things.

By the time Barnes comes back to the table, Steve has scooted his chair next to Sam's and is doing his level best to drive Sam into an early grave with that mouth of his. Sam's about two seconds from sinking to the floor in a boneless puddle, and Steve hasn't even _touched_ him below the neck.

"About time," Barnes comments with a smirk, and puts Steve's coffee and lemon bar on the table. "I'm going back to bed now. If you two are getting ready to bone, do it at Sam's place."

Steve blushes, but doesn't pull away from Sam's embrace. "Bucky, c'mon, man..."

"Yeah, yeah, save it. You're acting like I haven't lived with you since you were 18 and know how loud you get when you bring someone home," Barnes says, shaking his head.

" _Buck_ , Jesus –"

Barnes just winks at Sam as he turns away from the table. "Have fun and don't forget to practice safe sex!" he calls over his shoulder.

Steve smothers a laugh and turns to Sam with a hungry, wanting look that manages to rev Sam up all the way to eleven. "So...you wanna get out of here?"

Sam leans in and gives Steve a _very_ thorough kiss that hopefully makes his enthusiasm for the suggestion clear. "You bet your tiny ass I do," he says, and smiles.

***

**Author's Note:**

> You can now find me on [Tumblr](http:brendaonao3.tumblr.com). :)


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